


all these things i've done

by felixfvlicis



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:59:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixfvlicis/pseuds/felixfvlicis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevor wanted to be everything that Mike needed.  Mike wanted to be everything that Trevor wasn't.  A story of unspoken affections in a relationship neither of them saw coming, that Trevor didn't realize he wanted, until Harvey Specter came crashing into their lives.</p>
<p>I do not own these characters.  Just the plot.  This is also my first Trevor/Mike fic, so I hope you enjoy it.  If you, however, do not, that's okay, too.  </p>
<p>xoxo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all these things i've done

Mike curls his hand around the nose of his beer, condensation from the bottle dripping onto his jeans. He hasn't gotten high in nearly a year. Work is going well, despite the fact that the case he's working on with Harvey makes him want to gouge his eyes out. What's the deal with hoarding millionaires, anyway? Setting his beer on his cheap, faux-wood coffee table--that he picked up at a yard sale five years ago-- he releases a hefty sigh, remembering the owner's comments about how he and Trevor looked 'good together', and how she hoped that they'd be 'happy in their new home'. Mike stammered as Trevor's fingertips traced the small of his back, nails digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt, conveying ownership. Trevor didn't miss a beat, of course, offering thanks with a charming smile and twinkling eye, as Mike spun around and shuffled through the grass, Trevor still glued to his side.

_There were sounds in my head, little voices whispering, 'I should go and this should end', I found myself listening_

The Trevor that Mike remembered -- that he thought he used to love -- didn't exist anymore. Ever since Harvey had shipped him off to Montana, to help him, no less, he'd obeyed his singular stipulation: to stay out of trouble. But Mike knew Trevor, so that meant knowing he never did things by halves. Trevor had always possessed a jealous streak, so whenever he'd managed to weave himself into the threads of Mike's new and improved life, his little 'streak' webbed through his veins, making him hypersensitive to two words: Harvey Specter.

Don’t misunderstand—he was grateful to Harvey. That clown who walked like he had a rod up his ass had risked his own life, walking into a situation to which he had no knowledge, simply because Mike was tweaking out, over his stupidity, no less. But he should have seen it then. Harvey had slithered deeper into Mike’s bloodstream, taking what felt like ownership of his best friend, _his_ Mike. Trevor let it slide. Ever since Harvey had given Mike that second chance he so desperately wanted, the pieces of Mike that were uniquely, exclusively Trevor’s started to crack and fray at the edges, until they shattered completely.

Slumped against Mike’s ratty apartment door, Trevor slid his right hand down over his face, as if he could erase all of his monumental fuck up’s. He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut. He’d gotten back into New York three hours ago, and had nowhere else to go, so here he was, waiting for Mike. Mike used to wait for him, to want him, but all that dispelled once Harvey came crashing into Mike’s life. The gestures, the jokes, the intimacies that were theirs alone had now been edited so meticulously that Trevor couldn’t even tell they were theirs anymore. They were edited for Harvey. To fit Harvey. Trevor remembers one of the first times he called Mike from Montana. He told him about getting a job—a real job—in the mailroom of a law firm (of all places). Mike had chuckled, and Trevor could read his expressions through the landline. He’d memorized the way his eyes sparkled when they hit the light at just the right angle, and how his forehead would crease whenever he was disappointed, he’d release a huff of air, and softly mumble, _“Trevor.”_ Like he was someone so cherished yet fragile. Just as the story was finding its wheels, he heard Mike laughing. “Mike,” he asked, curiously with a hint of annoyance, “what’s so funny?” Mike cleared his throat to try to stifle his laughter, when Trevor heard another voice in the background, barely audible. Harvey. Trevor slumped his shoulders and clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles shown white. “Nothing, man. I’m sorry, go ahead, what were you saying?” Through gritted teeth, Trevor huffed a sigh, and continued. His memories were interrupted by a set of footsteps turning the corner. His breath caught in his throat and his pulse was rapid. He heard Mike laughing, again, and realized suddenly, that he wasn’t alone. Fuck. Trevor felt displaced, as if he were in a foreign land. He didn’t feel like _Mike’s_ Trevor anymore.

The footsteps stilled, and when he looked up, he saw Mike’s hands entwined in Harvey’s jacket, twisting the fabric so tight that almost as if he could will it off of Harvey’s body, kissing him with the fervor that Trevor used to dream about, but could never ask for. He felt like an intruder, but everything was moving in slow-motion, like a car accident, and he couldn’t turn his eyes away. Mike didn’t look like that broken teenage boy who had just lost his parents, who would jerk away at the slightest touch, and turn in on himself. He didn’t look like the bike messenger stoner that Trevor had silently fallen in love with, addicted to smoking up, talking shit about taking SAT’s for people who were never going to amount to more than “suits on wall street”. Mike looked like the person he’d always imagined himself to be. “One day, I’m going to be the smartest bastard in this whole city. I won’t walk like I’ve got a rod up my ass, though, dude. I swear.” He used to say to Trevor, blowing smoke rings into the air, his head thudding against that ugly forest green upholstered couch, kicking the faux-wood coffee table with his shoe. Trevor would just chuckle, close his eyes, and nod. Not that he ever really believed Mike. He wasn’t even sure that Mike believed it himself. But, here he was, all these years later: in his way-more-than-a-hundred-dollar suit, making 80K a year, clutching onto the man who saved his life, who fueled him like oxygen, not even realizing that Trevor was slumped against his door frame.

When Mike’s gaze broke away from Harvey, he cleared his throat, blinked his eyes, and whispered, “Trevor?” Trevor lifted his head slightly at the mention of his name, looking tenacious , and smiled his signature half-smile, “Hey, Mikey.” Mike was dazed and felt like he was being pried open from the inside out. He looked behind him, over his shoulder, to Harvey, as if waiting for some kind of instruction. Harvey nodded his head, motioning Mike forward with a wave of his hand. Mike straightened, ruffled his right hand through his hair, and stepped toward his door. Trevor’s mind was elsewhere as Mike approached him, thinking about that lady at the yard sale five years ago, her words sounding so sweet in his ears. “It’s good to see you, man. How the hell have you been?” Mike asked, pushing himself into Trevor’s still arms. With Mike’s body flush against his own, Trevor was knocked out of his memory-induced haze, embracing Mike tightly, squeezing his fingers into Mike’s now-firm back muscles. “It’s good to see you, too, Mikey,” Trevor breathed. As Mike released him, he squeezed his eyes shut and realized that he’d never be wholly Mike’s again, because if there’s one thing he taught him how to do, it was how to trust himself exclusively, to play his cards close to his chest. He knew that he’d had his chances. And he’d shown Mike the same hand. Over and over again.

_He will love you more than I could, he who dares to stand where I stood_

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration came from 'Where I Stood' by Missy Higgins.   
> Title comes from 'Lego House' by Ed Sheeran.


End file.
